


Fireworks

by tastewithouttalent



Series: Understanding [3]
Category: Katekyou Hitman Reborn!
Genre: Developing Relationship, Fluff, Holding Hands, Inline with canon, M/M, No Plot/Plotless, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-15
Updated: 2014-11-15
Packaged: 2018-02-24 04:07:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 616
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2567636
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tastewithouttalent/pseuds/tastewithouttalent
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Yamamoto can’t stop staring at Gokudera’s hand." Yamamoto is tempted into touching and Gokudera doesn't offer any protest.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fireworks

Yamamoto can’t stop staring at Gokudera’s hand.

The problem is how close it is. If Gokudera were just a little farther away the temptation wouldn’t be so bad. If he were a little closer there would be no need to resist at all. But he’s barely an inch away, his wrist braced out against the ground like he doesn’t realize how near his skin is to Yamamoto’s fingertips, and the tension of possibility is pulling all Yamamoto’s attention away from the color of the fireworks overhead and down to focus on the edge of warm skin pale in the dark.

It wouldn’t take much. Yamamoto’s own fingers are limp in forced relaxation against his ankle; all he would need to do is reach out, just shift one or two fingers and he’d have Gokudera’s wrist under his hold. He’s been thinking about it for minutes, caught up in staring at that tiny gap between them while Gokudera himself is looking up at the sky, his lips drawn unusually soft around a smile as he watches the lights flicker overhead.

It’s in a lull in the explosions that Yamamoto moves. The color of the last burst of light is still clinging to the darkness, the last sparks still bright against the stars, when he takes a careful breath, as deliberate as if he’s bracing himself before a baseball game, and extends his fingers to skim over the angle of Gokudera’s wrist.

He’s not sure what he’s expecting -- a yell, a jerk, some indication that Gokudera even noticed -- but there’s nothing, or at least nothing evident to their companions. There _is_ a tiny tremor through the other’s shoulders, a breath of movement as the bend of his wrist goes tense with attention, but he doesn’t speak, and he doesn’t turn around, and most importantly he doesn’t pull away.

Yamamoto keeps his fingers where they are for a moment, stretched out so only the very tips of his ring and middle fingers are brushing Gokudera’s skin. When he glances up Gokudera’s not looking at him, but his smile has fallen away and his lips are parted like he’s forgotten his expression entirely, like all his attention is caught somewhere else. Yamamoto keeps watching his face, ready for a flicker of distaste or a thrum of motion under his fingers as he slides his hand sideways and close enough that he can press all four fingers against the inside of Gokudera’s wrist.

Gokudera’s fingers against the ground go tense, flex to press against the grass under them. Yamamoto can see him swallow, can see the focus drop out of his gaze so he’s staring blank and unseeing at the sky. There’s a moment of total silence, the both of them breathless with anticipation; then there’s another burst of fireworks overhead, and in the color of the light Gokudera twists his wrist, turning his arm so he presses into Yamamoto’s touch and offers the inside line of his arm for the other’s reach.

Yamamoto doesn’t even think to restrain the smile that breaks over his face. Gokudera’s pulse is fluttering under his fingertips, his skin is flushed warm and radiant, and when Yamamoto slides his hand in farther and trails his fingers up higher to brush over the soft skin at the inside of his elbow Gokudera’s eyelashes flutter, his throat working on a swallow. Yamamoto can feel Gokudera’s arm trembling under his touch, shaking in proof of the match for the adrenaline that is flaring sparkling hot in his own veins.

Yamamoto doesn’t see much of the fireworks, but from the unthinking smile that he watches form on Gokudera’s lips, he’s pretty sure the other boy isn’t seeing them either.


End file.
